I take you back to my formative years, when ox blood Docs, Levi 501's and flat tops were the order of the day and you just couldn't get rid of the smell of 2-stroke oil.
I've posted before of the joys of the testosterone and brown ale fuelled events known as Scooter dances and how they always ended up one of 2 ways for our club, either embroiled in a battle or heading home in the mini bus sans at least one or two of our mob. Once we forgot one mate who phoned us up later saying that he was penniless and couldn't get home. He was told not to worry, get a taxi and one of us would pay for it once he got to the friend's house where we were crashing that night. We proceeded to empty the coppers jar and count out the 10 quid or so, left it on the coffee table for him and all went to bed pissing ourselves laughing. The next morning we were confronted by the moodiest bastard in the world but still couldn't stop laughing.
Back to the scooter nights and the strict music policy, it had to be punk, psychobilly and soul no deviation, no Smiths here or any other what was termed student music apart from probably the Wedding Present who were deemed thrashy enough.
Spear of Destiny's Liberator was a definite floor filler and also a stick on for the odd bloody nose or black eye from an over enthusiastic slammer. If slamming is dancing then this must be the slam dancer's anthem. Being a bit of a pussy I stayed well clear of the dancefloor during this track but loved it none the less.
Spear Of Destiny - Liberator (extended mix)
Funnily it seems a bit tame now!
1 comment:
That Kirk went to my school. He was a wooss.
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